This World Is Made Of Colours
by eccedentesiasticshadow
Summary: Kurotane Piko X-SiDE is model 001 from Sony. Having escaped from where they kept him; he has to learn how to survive in an unknown world. He finds model 013, and together, they promise to bring down Sony. However, that will not go as planned. This is Kuro's life story - let him show you his world. The fic is Vocaloid and SPN in the same world. Characters from both worlds appear.


He'd long since stopped struggling against the mechanisms that held him in a 'maximum efficiency' position. He held his breath; waiting on the off vocal to start playing. He already knew what song he was going to be forced to sing this time.

The off vocal started to play. He waited for a few seconds; then began to sing with the right pitch, the right lyrics. It was difficult.

"We are pop candy; look, here's one for you from me. We are pop candy; very happy."

The black haired boy sounded happy, mature, robotic and deep. He was in a lot of pain and wanted to be let go.

He coughed when he could; trying not to choke or cry. A tiny boy in a huge contraption, his small metal body only two and a half feet tall and thirty pounds. He took a breath, the scientists glaring at him.

The song finished and he fell from the mechanism that kept him in place. Large hands gripped his small body and roughly threw him into a small, dirty kennel. It was like a dog crate. He snuggled up in the corner, beginning to cry as they locked him in again. He barely fit inside the crate. Barely. But yet, he was almost done. He scratched at the plastic flooring again. The longer he scratched at it, the more it gave way. He knew that some days the scientists – it – would turn the kennels to face the opposite direction, and he knew there was food there.

If he scratched enough at the plastic, he knew he could get food by making a hole. He had every intent on it. He was not the only one here. He knew his name. He knew he was not the first prototype on this project, and he watched it do cruel things to his elders. They never struggled.

He would get out.

He clawed at the plastic wall throughout the night. Finally, he could see a bit of the dark room ahead through a very thin layer of plastic. He moved as best he could to the door and ran about three inches forward – enough to split the plastic to get through. He tumbled onto cold flooring. And stood up.

He'd never stood up before. It was always the mechanism for singing, crawling, or the kennel. Standing felt odd. He grinned, a natural, orange reflection of being happy. Happy was orange.

He began to walk, not sure what to do now. He decided he could check for food. He pushed the door to the 'kitchens' – as he knew them – open. Nothing. No scent of food, no noise, no light. He scanned the room. No heat either, if he turned on infrared vision. Nothing.

A deep blue of disappointment. It flashed into yellow, creativity and joy. He could escape. Nothing was here. Nothing moved. He would never go back to the kennel.

He started to climb up to the window. He didn't make it in time for a light to appear. One of the scientists was still there. And it pushed him out the window – three stories down.

The small boy fell, screaming with grayish brown terror. Something burst from his back and stopped his fall. He landed gracefully on a tree branch, with no idea how. He looked at his back. Wings. Six white, powerful looking wings. He was safe. They disappeared. Pale pink confusion. He shrugged it off and climbed down.

He was free, yes, but he was alone. Very, very alone.

The small boy snuggled back up, sighing in the icy, blue cold. It was just before Christmas, but also very cold. He yawned, snuggling close into the blanket, shivering. He hated the cold. He could barely feel it, but it often got into his tail and that was unwelcome. He sighed and figured he could go find some food. There was nothing wrong with food.

People were singing carols and dancing through the streets. Some were putting out wreaths and lights. It was not his first Christmas, but he did not participate. It was a "family" thing; and the small child did not have a family. He walked through the streets, paying no mind to the people. Part of him wanted to sing with the carols. But he knew better. It only attracted attention and orange happiness.

He had learned that happiness was something he could hate. Hate was green to him.

Many things in his world were grayscale. The only things he saw in colour were he and emotions. Emotions had colours. Nothing else did.

Another small child his size bumped into him, accidentally pushing him over onto the snowy ground. He blinked, trying to get away and get up. The child got up and offered his hand to help him.

The other boy's eyes were cyan and Paris green.

Cyan. Innocence.

Paris green. Euphoria.

The black haired boy stared at the child who pushed him down. The boy was in colour. So few things were in colour. Slowly, very slowly, he took the other heterochromiac's hand, and the world was colourful.

The trees were green, white and brown. Gray and white decorated with many colours of décor bloomed. He looked around. The moment he had touched the child, the world was in colour.

"You stay with me," the ravenette told him. The blue/green eyed, white haired boy looked at him confusedly.

"What do you mean? Why do we look so much alike? We even have the same tails…" The white haired child raised his own USB cord tail, the same as the ravenette's, but decorated with a red ribbon tied in a bow.

The ravenette looked at him in awe. Without thinking, the green and orange of euphoria, he picked up the other boy and began to run, carrying him. He vaguely noticed some men running after him. They didn't matter. He was fast.

He had made it home quick enough to lose the men. He oculd hear them calling for the child he had just kidnapped; who in question had started to cry.

He poked it, confused. "Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Who are you? Where am I? Why did you take me here?" the other boy demanded, sobbing.

"With you, I can see in colour. So you stay with me," he replied simply. As much as he hated talking, he felt a desire to respond.

The boy shook, as if scared of him. "D-don't hurt me!" he whimpered.

"I won't," the ravenette responded calmly. He cuddled up to the boy, not thinking anything of it. "If we stay close, we stay warm." He laid his head on the white haired boy's chest, smiling softly. Something made him feel happy here; and he didn't know why.

"What's your name?" the paler one asked.

"Mm? Name? Kuro," the ravenette replied.

"That's cool."

Their conversation continued for a while; to discover that Kuro's newfound friend had also been in the kennels. He was model 013. The ravenette noticed that they were very alike – both had run away and escaped, and both desired a heated, red vengeance.

"We should work together and bring them down."

"When we're older. But for now, let's keep warm, and tomorrow, we'll celebrate the fact I found a twenty yesterday and we're getting something sweet to eat."


End file.
